Delaney Jones Has Big Cajones

Brooklyn

 

 

 

IT TOOK ME A long time to fall asleep again after Delaney talked about children. Told me her daughter’s name. Little Katie. She nodded off more easily, and I hoped it was because she felt at peace with me.

In the morning, getting up at the normal early hour, I took care of the horses, then I took care of my woman. Breakfast in bed—hot coffee, hot omelet, and even hotter sex afterward in the double shower with soap lathered all around us.

Delaney frigid? Her abusive asshat of a deranged husband. He’d clearly fucked with her mind as much as her body.

I held her hand in the truck all the way to her place, kissed her long and deeply before walking her to her door.

She pushed me away, finally, after I’d pretty much mauled her on the doorstep. “I’ve gotta get my kit together for practice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I dipped my head at her. “Sure you don’t want a ride?”

“I think you gave me a good enough ride yesterday, and last night, and this morning.”

Groaning, I fell back against the wall. “You just had to say that to me, didn’t you? So I’ll be thinking about you naked and in my bed while I’m on the field today.”

“You’d have been thinking about me anyway.” She winked before disappearing inside.

****

Getting changed in the locker room turned into twenty fucking questions from Rafe.

What happened?

Was Delaney cool?

How’d she take to riding—wink wink.

I couldn’t/wouldn’t tell him all but the basics. What? The fucker didn’t deserve the details considering he’d kept the secret about Peyton and Callum from me—from the whole team—for like a month. Besides, I couldn’t come right out and say shit about Delaney’s ex. Who wasn’t her ex. Yet. The fucking assmaggot.

Then there was the bitch session from Coach Frank:

Why’d you miss Family Day?

No one gets a day off!

You better Velcro that ball today, boy, because I won’t hesitate to bench you during the New York game.

Aaaand then on the field, training, confronted by the entire Carolina Cougars squad led by fuckhot, long-haired, long-legged Delaney.

I pretended the wolf whistles and catcalls from her troupe of chicks weren’t aimed at me. But even from the other end of the field I could see Delaney trying to shut her sisterhood the hell up.

When I ran down the yardage, spun, and caught the ball rocketed from Rafe, that woman Raquel yelled out, “Ai yai yai yai! Look at your man, Laney!”

Coach D heard. He glared at me.

Peyton heard. She scowled at me.

Rafe definitely heard. He sprinted toward me, raised his hand for a high five, thought better of it.

I was probably possibly in for an ass-reaming of the most unpleasant kind if my and Delaney’s foundling relationship came completely to light.

The one bright spot, besides Delaney getting sweaty in her barely-there gear, was Buck Big Mouth Fuck didn’t flap his gums. Maybe the Cornhusker kid had finally learned his lesson once and for all.

Keeping my head in the game, I sweated through grueling drills. I jumped then dove under obstacles. I practiced the spinout move with both Bunyan and Akoni monoliths of muscle in my path.

I stopped to stare at Delaney on more than one unwise occasion. But I couldn’t help it. Her eyes sought me out, too. Sharing a workplace where we got physical, wearing very little clothes, getting hot, did nothing but amp up the sexual tension.

Remembering her on her knees in front of me, swallowing every drop of my come, I missed an incoming ball. Thinking about how she’d teased me with her cunt before telling me to fuck her right, I splatted to my back when AK bulldozed into me.

So maybe there was a good reason for the nonfraternization policy after all. Still wouldn’t have traded a few missed passes or a back-splat for another night with Delaney Jones.

“Y’all!” Rafe stood with his arm slung around Peyton’s shoulders. “Time for the tossing contest!”

As usual, I stroked my fist up and down in front of my groin, pumping air. “Toss this.”

“I think somebody already did last night,” Rafe came back at me.

Dickhole. Middle finger. And I mouthed, “Fuck you too,” just for good measure.

“So Brooks is in,” he said. “Who else?”

Always willing to give it a shot, AK stepped forward. The sweet beast of a man had an incredibly precise arm despite being top linebacker.

Predictably, Luke Buckley raised his hand, a grin splitting his lips.

And for the first time, Calder Malone threw his hat in the ring, too.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Delaney waltzed over, holding the ends of a towel around her neck.

I smoothed my hand over my mouth. Hot fucking damn.

Rafe glanced at me. I didn’t move a single muscle—I was too busy quivering inside. Far be it for me to tell the woman what she could or couldn’t do. And I really wanted to see her beat the fuck out of everyone else.

Buckley toed up to the fifty-yard line first. Peyton and all the coaches watched. As did the entire team of Cougars since their girl was in play for the first time.

Buck aimed for the big black barrel in the end zone. He pulled back, fired the shot that whistled the football through the air. High and tight, the ball zoomed. And the blond boy not-wonder looked ready to celebrate just before the pigskin hit turf half a yard beyond the barrel.

“Looks like another shocking miss for Buckley!” Marquis held his fist to his lips like a mic. “Will we see him shake his moneymaker again—or not—at the next game?”

Peyton winked at Rafe.

I slapped his palm.

Buckley muttered ugly insults under his breath.

Delaney strode forward.

“A first for Carolina Crush. The D-diva, Miss Delaney Jones, ain’t afraid to play with the big boys!” Marquis commentated.

I stood behind her, holding my breath, hoping I didn’t chub wood while I watched her play with the big boys.

Her skin glistened, and she accepted the ball from Coach D. The braid slung over her shoulder. She centered herself on her feet—just like I’d shown her to find her center on Cinnamon. Not that the woman needed any lessons in how to throw a ball. Or suck mine.

Folding my arms over my chest, I ignored everything else around me.

She hefted the football—Raquel, Sammy, and Lourdes crowding the sideline. The taut muscles in her arm tightened when she drew back. Her hips twisted then rolled into the motion. Let loose, the football spiraled perfectly, the tip like an arrow intent on the bull’s-eye of the bucket.

That fucking thing bounced off the rim of the barrel, swirled around the edge like a marble in a tunnel, then popped back out.

“YASS GIRL!” Sammy jumped up and down.

Delaney’s posse grabbed her, hugging tight.

She hadn’t made the bucket, but her shot was barely a miss.

Akoni grasped her hand and pulled her into a hug I hoped didn’t crack her spine. I could do nothing but smile, shaking my head, pretending I had no other reaction like—for instance—saying way to go with my tongue in her mouth.

A fucking throw like that?

She’d crushed Buckley. I’d goddamn laugh my ass off if Rafe fell short of her aim, too.

“What an epic baller!” Marquis sounded off. “Girl’s got aim, no doubt about it.”

Akoni took a new ball and rolled his shoulders. Just for the laughs of it, he performed the chicken dance on the sideline, the big man clucking before he got his mean haka face on.

He snapped back and sonic whoosh. The ball flew so fast I thought it shot right into the atmosphere. The next thing I knew, the football pinged into the barrel then popped right back out. The sheer power behind AK’s throw forcing the rebound.

“The Big Kahuna is too strong.” He grinned widely, completely unfazed.

“Damn right, Akoni’s too strong,” Marquis commentated. “That’s why he’s on the strongest team in the NFL! Up next, Mr. Mac Daddy himself, Rafe Macintyre. Can he bring it again?”

“Ask Peyton.” He smirked, hefting a ball. “I can bring it.”

“Ahem. I’m still your boss,” she said.

“Oh yeah. Wouldn’t have it any other way either.”

Rafe turned to take the shot . . . then he jumped and squeaked when Peyton goosed him on the ass.

“Interference!” Marquis called out.

“I got this, man.” Rafe kissed Peyton’s hand, then he took his aim.

That was what I wanted. A woman at my side who was so part of the game she understood everything I did. Someone to come home with, not to. A partner in every fucking sense of the word.

Rafe’s rocket arm hit home. His football tunneled into the barrel and bounced inside.

“Mac Daddy scores again! And we’re not talkin’ about his sugar momma this time.”

Chuckling at Marquis’s words while Rafe slipped a ball to Calder, I glanced at Delaney. She stood with her hands at her hips, chin thrust up, decidedly not paying attention to me.

I bet she was wet and ready for my cock again, but the jock girl wasn’t gonna give an inch. That was okay. I respected that.

I’d have her later.

Calder cracked his knuckles. Cracked his neck. Poised on the sideline, he peered downfield. When his shoulders squared, the ball jetted from his hand. It flew on course, into the chute.

I thought he’d damn near swish that shit, but the football hit the side of the bucket and plunk-plunk-plunked away.

“Newbie Calder Malone stepped up to plate and missed by a hair,” Marquis announced. “But he definitely has the balls to be a huge part of Crush.”

And the man definitely had a fan in Raquel, the Cougar who slid up to him and bumped his fist with her smaller hand.

Calder had been flirted with, tempted, teased, and propositioned by more than one woman in my presence. He’d always turned them down.

Raquel wasn’t any different as he slipped away from her, back to the Crush team.

“And now, the Crush’s tight end takes his place among some of the finest ball slingers in the game, including the Cougars very own Miss Delaney Jones!” Marquis snapped his fingers then pointed at me.

I glanced at Delaney, putting a little extra swagger into my steps as I accepted the ball from Coach D.

I took a moment to spin the football on the tip of my finger, showing off for Delaney, because, hell yeah I was out to impress the woman.

Her expression remained passive, but there was an extra added gleam to her light golden eyes. Fuck yeah there was.

I limbered up.

“Get the hell on with it already,” Rafe bellowed.

“Suck my dick.”

“Already told you. Not into your ass, and I’m definitely not into your cock.”

Fucker.

Hefting the ball in my hand, I took aim. It was just like shooting a shotgun without the kick-back. And I had incredible aim. Delaney could attest to that.

The football flew without a single wobble, dead on target. The black barrel beckoned. I leaned forward, willing the thing to hit home.

Taking a sudden dive, the football went all Hindenburg. It bounced down on the ten-yard line, dead in the water.

“And Brooks bombed it, folks!” There was an extra note of glee in Marquis’s voice.

Dickwad. Next time I’d commentate and he could compete.

So, great. Epic humiliation coming my way in front of my girl at our next game. On top of the humiliation of losing in the first place.

The guys clapped me on the back and insulted me every chance they got. Delaney and the Cougars returned to their practice after a parting “Burned you,” she mouthed at me.

Later that day, during the first break I got, what’d I do? Grab Delaney for a little touch football or fuck of our own? Nope. Shoot the shit with Rafe, AK, Bunyan and the other bruisers? Nah.

I loped outside of the arena, found someplace private, and pulled out my iPhone.

Gatorade in one hand, cell in the other, I dialed a number I never thought I’d have to use.